Lucky, Stiff
by Teyerin
Summary: What if Rick Castle met Elizabeth Rodgers?


Lucky, Stiff

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters from "Castle" or "Law and Order."

This is just a one-shot story of a 'what-if' idea, given the similar settings each series is placed in.

Elizabeth Rodgers rolled her eyes once more as she caught her visitor to _her_ domain doing something he shouldn't - again.

True, it seemed to be a habit of some folks to go poking around or trying to turn a corpse this way or that. Morbid curiosity, they'd call it; downright annoying, she'd call it. While this guy wasn't as obnoxious as Fontana was, with his 'know-it-all' info about military tattoos, this guy was obnoxious just the same.

"So, blunt force trauma, right? Struck in the back of the head with a wine bottle?"

Rodgers pushed the guy aside as she took one of her instruments out of his hand. "More like a baseball bat," she told him.

"Huh," the guy said, nonplussed. "Think the swing was a mite high, wouldn't you?"

Rodgers shook her head again. One thing was certain, her friend, Lanie Parish was going to owe her big time.

"Look, Mr. Castle-."

"Call me 'Rick,' please," he said, that charming smile making yet another appearance.

'Try calling you 'pain in the neck' instead,' she thought. "Castle, if you can't abide by the rules-."

"Funny, because that's what Beckett and Parish tell me all the time."

Somehow, Rodgers couldn't help but feel for them. "Amazing," she said dryly.

"Amazing that you still like me after all this time?" Castle quipped. "Usually, someone in your position would-."

"Would have you flat on your back in a heartbeat-."

Castle chuckled. "Well, that takes care of 'hard to get-.'"

"With a 'y-incision'," Rodgers finished. "I think I know why I can't stand your guy Storm so much."

Castle raised an eyebrow. "You've read my books? Wow, well-."

"I've read them and reviewed some of them," Elizabeth said, "for one of the literary magazines."

Rick Castle moved so he stood directly across from her over the table. "Dare I ask?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Your last Storm book was a breath of fresh air."

"Talk about taking the wind out of a guy's sails. Although, I confess, I killed him off just to tick off my ex-wife." After a beat, he added, "I've been married twice. What about you?"

Elizabeth's lip curled up into a thin smile, thoughts of Briscoe and McCoy coming to mind. "Funny- I hear that from a lotta guys I know." Grabbing a baseball bat she had used to compare the wound, she added, "So, what makes you think I'm crazy enough to be considered your 'third-strike-and-out' kinda gal?"

"The fact that you're _not_ a naturally born blond? You look so much better with red hair like that. Matches your fiery personality and…" He ran his fingers through his own hair. "Um, probably should stop now, shouldn't I? Before I'm scalped or something, right?"

Elizabeth brought her lower lip in, uncertain whether to laugh aloud or just hit him now. "What brilliant detective work did you-?"

"I noticed you were there at the reading, at the bookstore," he said looking down at the body, appearing more like a bashful bachelor than an arrogant author.

This time, Elizabeth did smile. "It was pretty crowded."

Rick shrugged. "Even with that blond hair washing your complexion out, it didn't wash _you_ out, not completely."

That took her by surprise. True, she thought she knew everything there was worth knowing about the author of the Derrick Storm series, including the tabloid nonsense. And yet, the man whom Lanie Parish asked Elizabeth to allow 'shadow her for a day' seemed more like a mystery…

…and possible colleague and friend.

Returning to the corpse, she decided it was worth pointing a few things out to Rick. "See where this indentation is? Now see how perfectly the end of this baseball bat fits? That's one way of matching up the marks left and the item leaving them."

Rick nodded. "Almost like trying on a pair of shoes…unless you're Cinderella and then it's a glass slipper. But look here, at the roots. That doesn't look like blood, not right _there._"

Sure enough, Liz thought, reaching for a pair of tweezers to extract a strand or two. She was aware of Castle 'reading' every detail of the body he could, not like an armchair detective, yet like an apt pupil more determined than a med student. Whether he was cataloging information for a future story or something else, she couldn't say.

What she could say was that if he weren't already an incredibly successful author, he'd make one fine detective on Van Buren's team.

A few hours later, Rodgers suggested getting some fresh air and a bite to eat.

"I find it amazing that you've no qualms about eating after dealing with internal organs like that," Rick said, holding the door open to one of the more expensive cafes in the area.

"This coming from a guy who 'kills' for a living? If I were to ask you how you find the ability to read, say, bedtime stories after a few chapters or so of chaos-?"

"For that answer, I'd have to insist you come over for dinner," he said quickly. "Enough about me and my dull life. Don't you ever find yourself wondering sometimes about… you know?"

Liz nodded. "Every time, young and old. The day I'm unable to do that is the day I'm unable to do my job anymore."

Rick kept the conversations to anything and everything _but_ work, which amazed and intrigued her.

"You're more of a renaissance man, Rick Castle."

He gave her a boyish smile. "Hey, careful there. Say my name fast enough and you'll _really_ hear what some folks think I am."

Liz chuckled. "I doubt you're that kind of guy. Granted, your publicist might say otherwise, but… what can you say about people like that?"

"Besides wondering if they're better off dead?" he asked innocently. "If only we should be so luck-." He stopped suddenly.

Liz eyed him, wondering if he was choking on something he ate. Instead, she watched as he furrowed his brow, patted his coat jacket down then removed a pen, scribbling something on one of the paper napkins.

"That hair…" he said aloud.

"Mine or one of the corpses?" she asked, leaning forward to try and decipher what he wrote. "You know, most bodies are identified with fingerprints, tattoos or dental work. Hair-."

"You have facial reconstruction programs, right? I mean, if one were to look at that guy's face the way it…was, versus now? I can't shake the feeling that-."

This time, Liz leaned back. Now she knew why her friend Lanie wanted to kill this guy sometimes. "If he's a low-key character out of one of your books, I'm not interested in reliving a situation akin to the Alison Tisdale case."

She knew she struck a nerve saying it so bluntly. Surprisingly, Castle didn't flinch.

"Lucky."

Liz waited him out, aware there would be more, hopefully soon. When none was forthcoming, she decided to fill the gap. "Is that luck aimed at-?"

"Lucero 'Lucky' Milleroni, the money launderer for the mob, as in the Russian mob?" Castle said as if it should have been obvious. "There were vague descriptions of him. What if-?"

Rodgers shook her head. "That's like winning the lottery of cutting open D.B. Cooper, and by now, I doubt there's much of _him_ to do that with."

Castle's eyes danced. "I've a gut feeling about this."

"I've got a hunch it's the lunch you ordered," she countered.

Yet the problem with Castle, in print or in person, was that hunches for him seemed to pay off…in more ways than one.

--

Rick Castle knew he was going to get into some trouble the moment Dr. Parish said she'd be 'out' for the day.

He recognized the tone of her voice when she said it because it sounded too similar to his mother's tone when she tried to lie her way out of something. Then again, Dr. Parish didn't strike him as _that_ kind of person, but then again….

When she handed the card with the name and address of one Chief Medical Examiner, Elizabeth L. Rodgers, he couldn't help but smile.

He recognized the name from one of the clippings his daughter, Alexis, kept in the shoebox in her room. Rick remembered walking in on Alexis as she chuckled.

"_What's so funny?" he asked._

"_Oh, a very frank review, that's all." Alexis quickly tucked it deep into the box. "Oh, don't read it Dad; you'll just get upset later."_

_Rick made a face. "When have I _ever_ told you to keep bad news away from me, young lady? When have I ever-?"_

"_Doesn't feel so good, does it?" Alexis asked, sounding older than her teenage years. "Let's see you try that again if and when you ever get married again." She handed him the review, watching him intently, a smirk on her face as he made a face of his own._

"_Let me guess," he said, handing the paper back-._

"She'll like you," Rick said, holding the door open to his apartment building. "Always a good judge of character, my daughter is."

He couldn't help but smile at the thought of how well his daughter and Rodgers would get along. Maybe, just maybe...

"It's a shame your daytime job doesn't pay you well," she quipped, taking in the spaciousness and the décor.

Rick shook his head. _If she only knew_, he thought. "Well, it's room enough for our small family, so what more could we want?"

As if on cue, his mother walked in, a 'gentleman caller' on her arm.

-

Rick couldn't lock the door to his office fast enough.

"I am _so_ sorry! I swear it feels as though there are _two_ children here." He began rummaging through his desk for one of his notebooks.

"Gee, Dad," Alexis said emerging from the chair in the corner. "Warn me when you expect me to share your hiding space."

He didn't feel so bad to see Rodgers take a step back when he did. "Elizabeth Rodgers, meet Alexis. Alexis-.

"You write some great reviews!" the teen said, hand outstretched. "I have to admit, you hit the nail on the head regarding-."

"Hey!" Rick protested. "This isn't 'gang up on Dad' time, thank you very much. Look, Al-."

"Which notebook do you want and for what purpose?"

Elizabeth arched a brow. "I'm impressed. I don't think even King or Koontz had such dedicated assistants."

"Neither do Patterson or Cannell," Rick said going through the drawers again. "Mobsters, sweetheart. Specifically, notes on Milleroni."

Alexis gave a knowing nod. "What is it with you and 'cold cases,' huh? I swear, if he wasn't so good at murder, he'd be one heck of a journalist," she told Rodgers.

"Journalist, author, actor…they all extract the same amount of pain on a person, I think," Elizabeth said.

Both women exchanged wry smiles while Rick groaned. Yes, he thought, this could be a good thing indeed.

She located the notebook, even flipped it to the pages in question, then handed it to him. "Hey, Dad, you know what tonight is, right?"

Rick's eyes widened. "Don't even try it, young lady. No, no and the answer is no."

"Do you play poker?" Alexis asked, as if the protest wasn't even spoken.

The look on Liz's face sent chills down his spine. "I know how to handle a 'Dead Man's Hand.'"

Rick stood watching the two women exit the office, Alexis offering a 'tour' of the 'Castle Castle' as she called it. A moment or two later, he referenced the information he sought, found the definitive starting point to work with, then made a list of things to do to see if his hunch was right.

--

Elizabeth Rodgers easily sidestepped Martha Castle's invitation to stay for dinner.

She found it amusing that Rick could chide his mother on the one hand, then offer 'escape' to his daughter on the other. Alexis definitely sounded mature and confident as she politely told her father she had every intention of staying home to chaperone her grandmother.

The fact that Alexis extended the invitational challenge to Liz to attend the poker game tonight…

"Trust me," Alexis said, "these guys are hilarious! I'd rank it up there with a game played between…Einstein and Hawking."

"Someone sounds like a Star Trek fan," Liz noticed.

"Well, duh," the young lady said before shoving her father out the door.

They returned to Rodgers' office so she could finish working with the other cases before the end of the day. As she put on her scrubs, she saw Castle walk over to the 'John Doe' they had started the day with. A few others working gave him dismissive looks, others gave him looks of annoyance.

"Castle," Rodgers called out, gesturing for him to join her. "Put these on; you won't be so out of place then."

Maybe an hour or two had passed before she was interrupted - a record if ever there was one.

"What can I do for you, Detective?"

Glancing over to the visitor then back again, Kevin Bernard answered, "You could tell me if you want a background check done on your new assistant over there."

"Why?" she replied. "Seen his face before?"

Bernard pretended to mull it over. "I believe so. Not on a wanted poster, of course, otherwise… I'd ask, Rodgers, but then that would just be 'poor manners' on my part, wouldn't it?"

Rodgers leaned over and whispered, "Somehow, I don't think he has any problems with 'bad manners.'"

"You've more experience suffering fools, myself included, I'm sure," Bernard said. "Van Buren sent me down here to get whatever you had on the jumper."

Rodgers nodded. "They had help with the leap; that much I can tell you. Judging by the size of the bruise, I'd say you're looking for a short person, most likely a woman."

She looked up and saw Castle listening, curiosity piqued. Kevin glanced up, too, saying nothing to the approaching man.

"We've a couple of people that might fit that description," Bernard said. "One of them has a very shaky alibi, too."

Castle tilted his head to one side. "I never would have thought that someone so small could be so strong."

Bernard chuckled. "It isn't always about size, but adrenaline and determination. In this case, our killer definitely had good measures of both." He paused. "Of course, I'm sure you're familiar with motivations like that, right, Mr. Castle?"

Rodgers bit back a smile of her own. Today was definitely a day of surprises.

"Whatever do you mean?" Castle asked, straightening his back.

Bernard relaxed his posture, casually folding his arms over his chest. "Well, seems to me there was an earlier, non-Storm book you wrote where a child put their tormentor out of their misery. It had a Dickens-like quality to it, with hints of Conan Doyle and Christie What happened after that?"

Castle shook his head. "So, I suppose you, along with Rodgers here, celebrated Derrick's demise?"

"I'm an officer of the law, Mr. Castle. I'm not supposed to revel in someone's death. However, discuss liberation of the creative process proper, then maybe we could talk."

He nodded good-bye to Rodgers and Castle, then left.

It didn't escape Liz's notice that Castle watched the detective depart. Writer's mind probably spinning, she thought.

"I think I see a new character," he said, mainly to himself. "Yeah…yeah, I think I do…a saintly guy. Saint Ber-."

She stopped him before he could finish. "Do that and you _will_ be on this table," Liz warned him. "Unless you're buried alongside Jimmy Hoffa, that is."

--

Rick Castle couldn't contain his response as well as he'd hoped.

As much as he had hoped Rodgers could and would join him at tonight's poker game, a part of him was relieved, too. Otherwise, how else was he going to sound off about the woman he met and the mystery before him with friends whose opinions he trusted?

If he was fortunate, he'd win some money to add to his daughter's upcoming trip to Washington D.C. and still get home in time to ponder the pieces of the puzzle he had 'collected' so far.

Detective Bernard seemed like a decent enough fellow for Rick to make some casual inquiries to. The fact that the other man was familiar with his work impressed Rick. The comments made brought a tinge of guilt and surprise as well. Only a few people made similar remarks to Rick's earlier writings - his daughter being one of them.

Maybe, just maybe he'd return to that writing style…

In the meantime, he had fun peppering his poker game buddies with ideas and theories to the fate of Lucero 'Lucky' Millerino. After some time of 'equal financial shuffling,' One of the other authors offered a scenario worth investigating - one that matched Rick's plans.

"Maybe I should call that other officer and check it out," Rick said, finally winning a decent hand.

"Might be wise," his buddy said. "Because you try your usual route and all you did was just scoop up your bail money."

Rick shook his head as he pocketed his winnings. "I'll remember that if you should call me sometime after midnight to bail you out, boys."

---

Rodgers looked over the information, impressed.

"Either you're more of a smooth talker than I gave you credit for, or Kevin hasn't decided to kill you yet."

Rick gave a sarcastic laugh. "I'll have you know that Kev was quite helpful in guiding me through the databases at-."

Rodgers narrowed her eyes. "Start wasting your favors in _that_ fashion and-."

"At the library!" Rick added quickly. "Not saying I wouldn't have known about them myself, but, Kev's got a few shortcuts and backdoors I wasn't aware of in terms of navigating the wacky, world-wide web of overwhelming information."

Liz bit back a smile, wondering how the detective was fairing with all of that 'quality time' with this guy.

"Anyway," Castle continued before she could say anything else, "I don't think I'm too far off about this. You already told me that a lot of that enamel's really-."

"Plastic," they said at the same time.

"Yeah, well, the other stuff… I remembered what it was that ticked me off about Lucky to begin with -his insufferable 'flexibility' of avoiding the law. I mean, some even doubt the legitimacy of the birth certificate his parents and family doc signed."

"Uh-huh," Liz said, wondering if she had enough aspirin for this.

Rick nodded without waiting. "So, that thing at the scalp I pointed at the other day…"

Liz listened, amazed at the information he shared - between what he already had and what he had recently found. Curiosity got the better of her as she decided to maybe put a call in to the 2-7 and see if Bernard found anything substantial to support this. If so, then…

"You've definitely outdone yourself, Rick," she said.

-

"Thanks," Rick said, impressed that he'd impressed her.

He gave her most of the notes he hadn't given Detective Bernard. "Of course, that still begs the question of why he was murdered and by whom."

Rodgers nodded. "Well, then you're definitely out of my arena. The only clue I can give you is that the swing was done at an equal height to Lucky's head."

"Doesn't say much about his luck, does it?" Rick deadpanned.

(Fin)


End file.
